


The Gift of Family

by DayenuRose



Series: BatFam Week 2018 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ballet, Batfam Week 2018, Batgirls don't give up, Bruce is a good dad, Cast - Freeform, Colouring Books, Connections, Convalescence, Dancing, Family, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Impressionist Paintings, Injury, Kittens, Puzzles, Reading, Scrapbooks, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Sign Language, Wayne Manor, Wheelchairs, batgirls, everyone cares about Cass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15559641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: After Cass is badly injured during a routine patrol, the entire family gathers around her to help her through her convalescence.As they seek to comfort her, they learn that comfort goes both ways.Part of BatFamily Week 2018Day 6 Prompt: Hurt/Comfort





	1. Cass

They hadn’t heard her fall. 

Black Bat was silent as she tumbled from the building. When she hit the ground, the snap of bone and the tear of flesh was followed by an unearthly yowl. Immediately, overlapping concern filled the comms as every Bat and Bird in Gotham wanted to know what had happened. 

No one had worried when Black Bat went off on patrol alone. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Likewise, no one had thought it odd when she hadn’t reported in on schedule. She didn’t like using the comms, because she couldn’t read the intent behind the words. Now, it seemed like a misstep. Where was she? Who had she been fighting? What had happened? How badly was she hurt?

“Silence.” Alfred’s normally calm voice cracked across the comms in the sharp snap of command. Softening his tone, he switched from the open comm to Black Bat’s channel. “Black Bat, report.”

Heaving breaths and strangled sobs had replaced the pained screams. Despite the prompts to respond, Black Bat didn’t speak. 

Accessing her suit’s data, Alfred checked her vital signs and her GPS location. The information didn’t look good, but there wasn’t much he could do from the Cave, especially when she wasn’t responding. Switching back to the open comm, Alfred informed the others with what little he knew. “Suit data has Black Bat located in the alley behind Mass. Street between 5th and 6th. She’s injured, though the biometrics in the suit appear to be damaged, so I do not know the extent of her injuries.” 

 

Spoiler was the first on the scene. Her stomach turned as she found her best friend crumpled on the ground. Black Bat’s leg was turned at an unnatural angle and a shard of bone pierced through the uniform. The black material was made even darker by the blood saturating it. The path of disturbed gravel and blood showed that Black Bat had tried to drag herself away from the scene. She hadn’t gotten far before the pain had been too much. 

“Black Bat,” Spoiler spoke in a calm soothing voice. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of her words. 

Black Bat hissed and howled. She lashed out like a feral cat as Spoiler approached. Her eyes were wide and wild. She didn’t see an ally approaching, only another threat. Spoiler could see the bruised lump forming along Black Bat’s temple. 

Steph pulled back the hood of her cloak and removed her mask. “Cass. Let me help, please.”

Cass blinked at the sound of her name, but didn’t seem to recognise it as her own. Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe. Tried to think. In her hand, she clutched a Batarang and brandished it at Steph like a knife. 

Despite the blade and knowing what her friend was capable of, Steph continued forward. Cass had been trained to fight with deadly efficiency. In the haze of pain, that instinct would take over. As Steph knelt at Cass’ side, she raised her open hands, showing they were empty. 

Lashing out with the Batarang, Cass attacked Steph. The blade sliced through cloth and armour and left a shallow cut across Steph’s skin. Steph caught Cass’ wrist and disarmed the other woman. She shouldn’t have been able to do that. With her weapon gone, Cass tried to pummel Steph with her fists. Blood loss and pain made her movements sluggish and sloppy. 

“Shh. Cass, it’s going to be okay. It’s me, Steph. I won’t hurt you. Shh.” Steph wrapped her arms around her friend, pinning Cass’ arms to her sides. Though Cass kept struggling, she was unable to free herself. Steph continued to intone softly, hoping the words would eventually reach her friend. 

After what felt like a short eternity, Cass stopped struggling. She seemed to collapse into Steph’s arms, allowing her friend to take the burden of her weight. Tentatively, Steph released her hold and examined Cass. 

The wildness had left Cass’ eyes though they were still clouded with pain and wet with free flowing tears. Her now freed hands twitched as she signed ‘Hurt’ over and over again. 

“I know,” Steph whispered.  Once again she wrapped her arms around Cass, though this time it was in comfort, not restraint. 

 

That was how Batman found them when he arrived with the Batmobile. With practiced movements, he carefully lifted Cass from the street and placed her in the car. This time, Cass didn’t yowl as her leg jarred and sent waves of pain up the injured limb. She simply moaned and her head lolled to the side. 

Batman flashed a quick glance at Steph. He noticed the cut uniform and blood. Before he could ask, Steph responded, “Go. I’ll be fine.” 

The Batmobile roared out of the alley in the direction of Leslie Thompkins’ clinic. Alone, Spoiler replaced her mask and pulled up her hood. She made her way to the nearest safe house to attend to her own wounds and worry about her friend. 

 


	2. Steph

“Hi!” Steph called as she knocked on the door of Cass’ room. The door was open, giving Steph a full view of Cass half lying, half sitting on her bed. Her leg was wrapped in a yellow cast and propped up in such a precise efficient manner that only Alfred could have managed it. “Can I come in?” 

‘Yes.’ Cass signed, though the movement was sluggish. Her eyes never strayed from the TV as she changed channels. She didn’t stay on one long enough to know what was playing. 

Steph climbed on the bed beside Cass, careful not to jar her friend’s leg. Touching Cass’ shoulder, she waited for Cass to look at her. After another rotation through the channels, Cass finally glanced away from the television and at Steph. 

‘How are you feeling?’ Steph signed. 

Cass gnawed on her lip as she tried to string words together through the cloud of pain medication. ‘Leg hurts. Feels wrong. Too heavy.’

‘I brought you a present.’ Steph placed a basket lined with colourful tissue paper on Cass’ lap.

With Steph’s help, Cass unpacked the basket—colouring books, glittery crayons, nail polish, sparkly stickers, peanut butter M&Ms, and a brand new pack of permanent markers. Cass frowned in confusion. She held up the markers and crayons and gestured at the colouring books. 

‘No,’ Steph signed. ‘Crayons for the books. Markers for your cast.’

‘Why?’

‘May I?’ Steph pointed at the cast with the black and purple markers.

Cass shrugged. 

‘Okay. Relax and I’ll show you.’ Steph took the black marker and began to draw high up on the cast where it would be easy for Cass to see. 

Cass watched her friend work much in the same way she had watched the television. Between the concussion and the pain medication, she didn’t remember much of the fall or the immediate aftermath. She remembered the break with vivid clarity, but other than that, the whole incident was a cloudy swirling mist where the memory ought to be. When she closed her eyes, she remembered a swirl of purple and blonde. She vaguely recalled arms holding her and a familiar voice whispering comforting words. Then there was Batman. And Dr. Leslie. And more pain. 

‘Finished.’ Steph sat back with a smile. 

Frowning, Cass brushed her fingertips over Steph’s cheekbone. The skin was tainted the sickly yellow-greens of a healing bruise. ‘Did I do that?’

Steph tried her best not to flinch, but the bruise still hurt when it was touched. At least she’d managed not to jerk her head away. ‘It was an accident. We hit heads. I’ll heal.’

‘Sorry.’ Cass found the stickers and peeled a sparkly purple star off of the sheet. She pressed it onto Steph’s shirt. 

‘Thanks.’ Then, signing ‘Look,’ Steph directed Cass’ gaze to the new additions to the cast. 

Near the upper edge, Steph had drawn in black the stylised bat they wore on their uniforms. In purple, beside the curve of the wing, she’d printed B.G.F.

‘B-G-F?’ Cass signed the letters. 

‘Batgirls Forever.’ 

Cass grinned and nodded. She pointed at Steph, then herself, and finished with signing, ‘Babs.’

‘Right.’ Steph then pointed to the lower portion of the cast where she’d signed her name in purple. ‘Your friends and family can sign too.’

Now Cass understood the markers. She still hated the cast, it made her slow and clumsy, but somehow Steph had also managed to make it fun. 

Cass placed the fingertips of her open hand near her chin and pulled it away. ‘Thanks.’ 

She wondered if that one word was sufficient to cover all the gratitude she felt for her friend and what she’d done.  

 


	3. Dick

In one hand Dick carried a tray while he signed with the other. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine.’ Cass signed so quickly that if he had blinked he would have missed it. Her face contradicted her answer. She was anything but fine. 

‘I brought hot chocolate, cookies, and movies.’ He handed her a stack of DVDs. On the top, he’d placed one of her favourites, _White Christmas_.

‘Not Christmas.’ She thrust the DVDs back at Dick. With his hands full setting the tray down, he couldn’t grab them and they spilled across the bed. 

‘I know, but you love the songs.’ He scooped up the DVDs and set them in a neat stack beside the television. She didn’t normally have a tv in her room, but he and Tim had set it up for her so she would have something to occupy her during the early days of her convalescence. ‘No one says you can only watch it at Christmas.’

She scrunched up her face in frustration. ‘Can’t dance. Leg too heavy.’

‘Sorry.’ He sat on the foot of the bed and studied his little sister. From experience, he knew how torturous being confined to bed could be. He and Cass shared the need for near constant movement. Sure, they could be as still as granite during a stake out or pass invisibly through the shadows with near glacial movements. It was possible because they knew the stillness would end by the by the morning light and was often rewarded with an explosion of movement that more than made up for inactivity. 

Healing from an injury this severe was different. It was months of recuperation, followed by physical therapy and re-training. Muscles that were strong now betrayed you, as they had grown weak during their confinement. He needed her to know, that this too would pass. With a little time and a lot of patience she would heal. In the meantime, she needed to keep her spirits up. ‘I have an idea. Come here.’

Carefully she manoeuvred to the edge of the bed. Her injured leg stuck out at an odd angle. ‘Help.’

With practiced ease, he helped her out of bed. She shifted forward, placing all her weight on his arms. With his hands full, he couldn’t sign, so he vocalised instead.

“Stand on my feet and wrap your arms around the back of my neck.”

Though her face questioned what he was doing, she did as he said. He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her just enough so she wasn’t putting any weight on her injured leg. He started to hum a waltz in three-fourths time.

She leaned against her big brother and allowed him to lead her in the dance. Closing her eyes she felt the familiar steps through her body. It wasn’t the same as dancing herself. It wasn’t ballet—the telling of a story through movement. But, it felt wonderful. For a brief moment, the weight that pinioned her to the ground was lifted. While she danced with Dick, she felt it possible that she might fly again. 

As the song came to an end, Dick helped her sit back on the bed. 

‘Feel better?’ he asked. 

‘Yes.’ This time the response from her hands agreed with the expression on her face. She reached for one of the mugs of cocoa and sipped it. ‘Cold.’

‘I’ll make more.’ Dick began to gather the mugs. 

‘No. Start movie. Watch with me. Please.’ She patted the spot beside her on the bed.

‘Okay.’ 

 

An hour later, Bruce stopped by Cass’ room to see how his daughter was feeling. He found Dick and Cass sitting surrounded by a mound of throw pillows and propped up against the headboard, while they watched _White Christmas._ Dick had his arm around Cass’ shoulders and she snuggled against his side. Her fingers moved in time with the music as though they were the dancers. Bruce smiled and slipped from the room unnoticed. 

 


	4. Babs

Babs wheeled her way through the hallways of the Manor in search of Cass. The young woman hadn’t been in her room, for which Babs was grateful. Since her injury, Cass had been spending entirely too much time alone in her room. According to Alfred, Steph had been stopping by every day and spending a few hours with Cass. That was good, but that still left quite a bit of time for Cass to fill on her own.

Eventually, Babs found her quarry in the den. On the sofa, Cass laid on her back with her head propped against the armrest on one end of the couch and her leg propped on a pillow at the other end. She tossed a ball in the air until it slipped from her fingers and rolled away. Blindly groping at the nearby end table, Cass sought some other small amusement only to not find anything else within her reach. When Babs manoeuvred around the couch, she found a myriad of items scattered across the floor between the couch and the end table. 

‘Help. Ball.’ Cass signed when she noticed Babs at the foot of the couch. 

“No. Sit up.’ 

Cass sighed heavily and shook her head. ‘Why? Bored.’

‘Feeling sorry for yourself won’t help. Sit up. I have something for you.’ Babs caught Cass with such a look the younger woman didn’t dare disobey her friend and mentor.

Slowly, Cass worked herself into a seated position. Babs helped Cass readjust so her leg rested on the table. With a spot freed on the couch, Babs lifted herself out of her chair and sat beside Cass. 

‘For you.’ Babs placed an oversized book on Cass’ lap. 

‘What’s this?’ Cass opened the book to the first page and found a picture of her in her Batgirl uniform. Her name was printed in Babs’ neat handwriting. She traced the letters. 

‘A scrapbook. It’s your story.’

Silently Cass flipped through the pages. The book started with newspaper clippings from the No Man’s Land quarantine and progressed through to the present day and her time as Black Bat. It told her story in pictures. 

Babs pointed at a picture of Cass in a blue and grey Batgirl uniform. ‘Remember when you wore my old uniform?’

‘Yes. I broke your shoe.’ Cass studied the picture. It was fun pretending to be Babs for a while, but that’s not who Cass was. Her costume suited her better. On the facing page, Cass found a picture of Steph wearing Cass’ Batgirl uniform before receiving her own. It was funny seeing Steph in the solid black uniform. No, Steph needed purple. That was her colour. 

Amid the pictures and newspaper clippings of her superheroics, were pictures of her civilian life. There were snap shots of her and Steph making silly faces at the camera and her and Bruce dancing at one of his charity galas. On another page, there was a photograph from the time Tim and Dick had taken her to a Gotham Knights game. The team had lost, but she’d had a blast at her first sports game. What appeared to be a still shot captured from the Cave’s security camera showed her and Jason sparring. And, there was one of her and Damian decorating a Christmas tree with the angel from Jean-Paul perched on the top. 

She found copies of her dance recital programs and ticket stubs from the ballet. Running her fingers over the scraps of material left from her various recital costumes, she was reminded of the music and steps for each dance. In the professional photographs from the dance studio, she almost didn’t recognise herself with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and her face covered in the heavy stage makeup.  

Turning to a new page, Cass paused the longest on a copy of her adoption papers. There it was, proof that she had a family who loved her and wanted her. She traced Bruce’s cursive signature. Each swoop and flourish of his name felt as familiar as the man himself. Beside the paperwork, Babs had added a picture from that day of Cass and Bruce grinning at Alfred who had taken the picture. Their hands were held up in twin signs of ‘I love you’—middle and ring finger curled in with the remaining fingers extended. Cass pointed at Bruce and signed, ‘Dad.’

‘Yes.’ Babs flipped to the last page. It contained a single picture. All nine of the family were clustered around the very couch where Cass and Babs were sitting. Damian was caught in a scowl and Jason was making a face. Steph’s eyes were half closed and Tim had turned his head. Dick was grinning at Babs instead of the camera and Babs was grinning right back at him. Bruce’s mouth was open like he was trying to tell everyone to behave. Only Cass and Alfred were looking at the camera and Cass’ smile lit up the entire picture. 

‘Our family.’ Cass’s smile matched the one in the picture. 

‘Are you feeling better?’ Babs asked.

Cass cocked her head to the side as she thought about it. Babs wasn’t asking about her leg. Of course that wasn’t better. Though for a brief while she’d forgotten about it. No, Babs was asking about her heart and her mind. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘Good. Now we are going down to the Cave.’

‘Why? Can’t fight.’ Cass scowled at her injured leg. The entire family had signed the cast. She ran her finger over Steph’s Batgirl doodle. While everyone else was out on patrol she was stuck at the Manor. She hated being confined. 

Babs gave Cass that same stare from earlier—the one Cass knew better than to question. With a grace developed with much practice, Babs manoeuvred back into her wheelchair. She tapped Cass’ injured leg. ‘Don’t let that stop you. We’re not going to fight. I’m going to teach you the exercises that I do.’

Cass’ eyes widened as she understood. She would get better. She would heal. Babs would not. Cass had a choice. She could sulk through her convalescence feeling sorry for herself. Or, she could once more follow her mentor’s example. 

Well, it really wasn’t much of a choice. They were Batgirls and Batgirls don’t give up. 

 


	5. Tim

“Hi Cass,” Tim said as he found her sitting in the dining room at one end of the absurdly long table with a stack of colouring books. Tim was beginning to suspect that every time Steph came over to spend time with Cass, she brought a new book with her. And she came over everyday. 

‘Don’t ask.’ Cass snapped in sign.

“Ask what? Oh, you mean...um....right.” He sat down beside her and pulled a colouring book off the stack. This one was all geometric shapes in complicated fractal patterns.

Cass pushed the mug of coloured pencils over to him. 

Exchanging the colouring book for the pencil sharpener, he began working his way through the dull points. “I thought you might be bored, so I brought you something.’

‘Don’t need to do that.’ 

‘I know.’ He switched to signing, since that was how she’d chosen to communicate. He pushed a puzzle box across the table to her.

A smile flickered across her face as she studied the picture on the box— _L’Etoile_ by Degas. 

‘Beautiful,’ she signed. She pointed at the dancer. ‘Who’s that?’

Tim shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘D-E-G-A-S?’ she fingerspelled, asking if that was the name of the dancer.

‘No. He’s the painter. He’s painted many ballet scenes.’ Tim didn’t know much more about Degas than that, though he supposed, Bruce probably had a book in the library that could tell them more. He pointed at the French title of the painting and translated. ‘Star.’

Cass tilted her head to the side as she tried to connect what he had signed to what he meant. Duplicating the sign he had used, she touched the side of her extended pointer fingers and brushed them up and down against each other—the sign for star. ‘In the sky?’

‘No. Not sky.’ Tim exhaled in frustration. He knew what the word meant, but he didn’t know how to explain it in sign. His vocabulary failed him. Was this how Cass felt when she tried to express herself while vocalising? That she knew what she wanted to say, but not how to say it because she didn’t have the right words. 

Despite his limited vocabulary, he tried again, groping for the best signs to express what he meant. ‘Best dancer in the group.’

‘Understand.’ Cass smiled and mimicked the dancers’ pose while seated.

Tim copied Cass. When he tried it, the pose came across awkward and clumsy. Cass laughed and he joined in. He never spent enough time just being silly. With a flourish he dropped the pose and opened the box.

Cass gasped at the thousand plus pieces crowded inside. Her face crumpled at the thought of the beautiful dancer divided into so many parts. ‘Why break the picture? Ruined.’

‘No. It’s fine. Puzzle.’ Tim quickly sifted through the pieces and found two the fit together. He showed her how they connected. ‘Is this your first puzzle?’

She nodded. When most children were given puzzles to learn spatial recognition and fine motor skills, she was being taught to fight and how to kill a man with her bare hands. 

‘Want to try? I’ll help.’ Tim grabbed a handful of pieces and started sorting the edge pieces from the inside ones. He’d meant this as a distraction from her pain, not to add to it. 

With a grateful smile, Cass followed her brother’s example. They worked in silence for a time, carefully constructing the edges into a frame where the other pieces would eventually fit. 

When the edge of the puzzle was nearly two-thirds of the way completed, Tim sat up straight and stretched his back and shoulders. Cass studied him. ‘What’s wrong?’

Tim thought about simply passing it off as a need to move, but he knew she would see through the lie. ‘I was thinking the past. About my mom.’

‘She dance?’

‘No.’ He shook his head and placed several puzzle pieces before continuing. ‘If I was home sick from school and mom wasn’t traveling, we did puzzles. It was different when mom was gone and Mrs. McIlvaine was the only one home.’

‘Lots of puzzles?’

‘No.’ He couldn’t keep the sadness and regret from showing on his face. ‘Only a few times. Mom was too busy to spend much time at home.’

‘Sorry.’ Cass signed. She pointed to him, then herself, ‘We do puzzles now.’

‘Yes.’ Tim agreed and returned to the pieces spread out before them and smiled. There was something satisfying about working on a puzzle. Every piece belonged somewhere and when they were all place in the proper spots, they formed a complete picture. Much like their family. 

 


	6. Damian

Alfred the cat followed Damian as he searched the Manor for Cain. For someone with a broken leg, she never seemed to be where he expected her. Today she was in the library. She sat in one of the upholstered chairs with an oversized art book about Impressionist painters on her lap. This puzzled him. He never considered that she might be interested in any of the arts besides dancing. 

She smiled at him when he entered the room. Or, possibly she was smiling at the cat. That would make more sense. 

He scowled, more as a reminder that he didn’t make a general practice of smiling than any real feelings of malcontent. His day had actually been quite satisfying so far. He’d spent the morning at the humane society feeding and playing with cats. That’s what had given him the idea. He kept his hands tucked in the pocket of the hoodie he had ‘borrowed’ from Grayson that morning. Cat hair clung to the sweatshirt. 

“I brought you a friend,” he said without preamble. From the front pocket on the hoodie, he produced a small seal point Siamese-mix kitten and placed him on her lap. 

“For me?” She asked before scooping up the kitten and nuzzling him against her cheek. The kitten purred, content for the moment with the attention.

“Yes.” Damian knew he had made the right choice. Of all the kittens he’d played with that morning, this one had made an impression. In the end, he had no choice but to take the orphaned blue-eyed kitten home. 

The kitten squirmed out of her grasp and down onto the back of the chair. His tail batted Cass in the head. ‘What’s his name?’

Damian sat cross-legged on the floor. Alfred the cat curled up on his lap as if to show the new kitten how it was to be done. The grown cat purred loudly as Damian idly petted him. 

“They named him at the shelter, but you can change it if you want.” Even though he had said she could change the kitten’s name, he hoped she wouldn’t. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the kitten in the first place. “They called him Batman.”

Cass grinned. ‘Almost perfect. Tiny Batman.’

Damian felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in the start of a smile. She was right. “Now, it’s perfect.”

Tiny Batman mewed in agreement and made his way down from the back of the chair to the floor. Before he could scurry behind the stack of books Cass had piled beside the chair, Alfred the cat stretched and almost leisurely followed the kitten.  A moment later, he had caught the kitten by the scruff of the neck and settled in the center of the rug. Alfred the cat proceeded to groom Tiny Batman. 

‘Belong together,’ Cass signed as she giggled at the sight. 

Damian nodded. He had a genuine smile on his face. There was no way Father could deny that the new kitten belonged to their family. 

Satisfied that Cass liked her new friend, Damian stood. “I should be go.”

‘Wait.’ Cass stopped him in his tracks. She pointed at her stack of art books. ‘Explain. Please.’ 

With a curt nod, he turned and picked up the book she had been looking at when he arrived. Degas. She was studying his ballet paintings. Which made sense. Ever since Drake had brought her that puzzle, they’d all taken to working on it whenever they passed through the dining room. As a family they were now three puzzles in from the first one, which was Cass’ favourite. 

He placed the book back on her lap while he perched on the arm of the chair. Flipping through the book, he found a page with a magnification of one of the paintings. With more patience than anyone—even Damian—would have expected, he began to explain the techniques employed by the Impressionists. 

 

As the dinner hour approached, Alfred the butler sent Bruce to find Damian and Cass who had disappeared all afternoon. He soon found them in the library. Though it had been hours and they had changed books several times, they were still seated in the same positions—Cass in the chair with a book on her lap and Damian on the arm continuing his art history lecture. 

“Dinner,” Bruce said, wishing he didn’t need to interrupt the scene. 

Damian sighed heavily and shut the book. As he stood, he returned it to the stack with the others. “Tomorrow I will bring you paints and you can try.” 

‘Yes. I paint the cats.’ She gestured over at two cats curled up together and sunning themselves in a diminishing rhombus of sunlight.

Bruce noticed the cats for the first time since entering the room. It was his turn for a heavy sigh. “Damian, I thought I told you. No more pets.” 

“Tt,” Damian huffed. “He’s not mine. He belongs to her.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Cass nodded. ‘Mine.’

As if they knew they were being discussed, the cats woke. Alfred the cat began to groom the kitten again. Whenever the kitten tried to protest, Alfred meowed and held its charge in place. The kitten mewed meekly in response.

‘What’s his name?’ Bruce signed to Cass. When a mischievous grin spread across her face, Bruce began to worry.

‘Tiny Batman.’ 

“Of course that’s his name.” Bruce muttered under his breath as he massaged his temples. “I guess we have to keep him.” 

Cass gestured for Bruce to come near. ‘Closer,’ she signed. 

He already stood at her side so the only way to get closer was to lean down. She threw her arms around him in a hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then ,she signed ‘Thank you.’

Bruce turned to Damian, “You’re the one who will need to tell Alfred about the new kitten.”

“Only if you call him by name.” Damian smirked and challenged his father to a hard stare. 

“Tiny Batman can stay. Now tell, Alfred. The butler, not the cat,” Bruce managed to say it all with a straight face. 

The children exchanged grins before Damian headed out of the library with the cats in tow. 

“Come on,” Bruce said as he handed Cass her crutches. “We should head to dinner before Alfred has to send someone else to find us.” 

 


	7. Jason

“Cass!” Jason called as he searched the Manor. He didn’t expect her to answer, but if he announced his presence, he wouldn’t feel so much like he was trespassing. If only Bruce would decide if he could or could not accept Jason as he was. Then, maybe, Jason could move on with his life. 

Jason grimaced. He hadn’t come to the Manor to hash out old issues. Alfred had telephoned and said Cass might appreciate some company. So, he came. 

The creaking of crutches and an uneven gait coming up the hall behind him, alerted Jason to Cass’ presence. 

“Hey,” he said and held up the stack of books he’d picked up on his way over. “I brought books. They’re, um, about kids who dance.” 

She cocked her head to the side and studied him.  He shifted uncomfortably under her all seeing gaze.

“So, yeah, where do you want me to put them?” Jason glanced down the hallway. They were standing outside the den. “I’ll just leave them in here.”

‘No.’ She leaned on her crutches so they wedged under her arms leaving her free to sign. ‘Follow.’ 

Jason shrugged and followed Cass down the hallway to Bruce’s study. She pushed the door open without knocking. 

“Are you sure we should...” The question faded from his lips as he glanced around the empty room. Bruce was nowhere to be seen. She settled in the most comfortable chair in the room. A small kitten crawled out from under the chair and climbed up onto her lap. Jason could hear it purr as Cass petted it. He had yet to meet the newest member to the brat’s menagerie. Though, from the looks of it, this one might actually be Cass’.

As if reading his thoughts, Cass pointed to the kitten and signed his name. ‘Tiny Batman.’

Jason nearly choked on laughter. The name, if nothing else, instantly endeared him to the kitten. “I can’t believe he let you get away with that. Good job.” 

She picked the kitten up and allowed Jason to pet him. Tiny Batman purred. Jason started. It was too much. That the kitten should like him more than the man made his heart ache. He paced across the room, the books still clutched in his hand. “So, now that we’re here, where do you want ‘em?”

She pointed at the chair behind Bruce’s desk. ‘Sit. Read.’ 

Jason glanced down at the stack of four books and realised his mistake. She didn’t read for fun like he did. What had he expected when he brought her books? Another proof that he was a screw up. “Sorry.” 

Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips into a frown. She repeated the signs, this time with more emphasis. ‘Sit. Read.’

Mutely, he nodded and sat behind Bruce’s desk. If anything felt like trespassing this did. He pushed aside the thought. This wasn’t about Bruce. This moment was about Cass. In that weird found family sort of way, Cass was his sister—like the other Robins were his brothers—even if he was no longer a son. He had to keep telling himself that, or he’d never find his way back here. If only Bruce would see him as something other than a constant screw up....

He shook his head cleared his throat. _Focus on the story_ , he told himself. Picking the top book off the stack, Jason began to read. “Ribbons, by Laurence Yep...”

Over the top of the book, he watched Cass close her eyes and relax back into the chair. She smiled as he continued to read in an even clear voice. The words flowed over her. From time to time, her fingers moved in sign or acting out the images invoked by the story. 

The clock chimed and Jason started. They’d been reading for over an hour and a half. He hadn’t meant to stay so long. 

“I’ve got to go.” For the first time in ages, Jason was actually sorry that he had to leave the Manor. 

‘Thanks,’ she signed. ‘Come tomorrow.’

“I will,” he promised without hesitation. 

 


	8. Bruce

The Manor never seemed so large as it did when you were looking for one person. At the rate his search was going, Bruce was beginning to believe he’d need to search all the way up to the attic before he found Cass. When she had begun her convalescence, Cass had scarcely left her bedroom. With the encouragement of the family, she soon ventured out and now the entire Manor displayed the marks of her presence. 

He’d started in the Cave. Babs and Cass would spend hours each day working through various exercises and drills that Babs had used over the years. Only, Cass wasn’t there now. Babs was working on the computer and hadn’t seen the younger girl in hours. 

So, Bruce moved on. On his way up to the Manor, he passed Dick who was on his way down to the Cave to practice on the trapeze. Whenever his oldest son was in town, he would take Cass dancing in the ballroom. Somehow, in the way only Dick could, he’d convince all the members of the family present in the Manor to join them and it would turn into a party. The first couple of times, only one or two others would join the festivities. Now, it seemed like practically everyone was in attendance. But, Dick hadn’t yet seen Cass today either. 

Next, the search took Bruce to the dining room. Three and a half finished puzzles were spread out across the dining room table. Whenever anyone passed through the dining room, they always stopped to put a piece or two in the puzzle. It no longer surprised him to find two or three of the children gathered around the table placing pieces in the puzzle and chatting about things other than patrol. 

Bruce paused for a moment placing several pieces of sea in the scene of a lighthouse shining its light into a stormy sea. 

From the kitchen, there was a clatter followed by laughter. Bruce followed the sound to find Steph and Tim decorating cupcakes.

“For Cass’ cast removal party,” Steph said as she tried to rub yellow frosting off of Tim’s cheek. Tim jerked his head away causing her to smoosh the line of frosting across his ear. 

Right. No help there. Bruce left them to either finish their cupcakes or create more chaos. At the moment, he wasn’t certain which one was more likely. 

Continuing on his quest to find his missing daughter, Bruce stopped by the den as Titus barked from inside. 

“Cass?” It wasn’t Cass. Damian was playing with the cats while Titus curled up on the couch. Bruce ordered the dog off the couch, but he didn’t budge. 

“Tt. You’re doing it wrong.” Damian gave Titus an order and the dog instantly lopped off the couch and curled up beside his boy. 

Bruce couldn’t help but marvel at the rapport his youngest son had with his animals. He could be so prickly with people, but when it came to animals, they boy had a tender heart. “How’s Tiny Batman doing?”

“Better.” Damian handed the kitten to Bruce. You could no longer feel his ribs through his fur. “He needed us.” 

Damian had been right about the kitten. The tiny creature had been an orphan in need of a family. Now that he had a family, he was thriving. That story had a familiar ring. Bruce petted Cass’ kitten. 

“Have you seen...” Bruce began before Damian cut him off. “No.”

Returning the kitten to Damian, Bruce headed out of the den and past the library. Myriads of books were stacked haphazardly around the room. A sign that Cass had been there, but was no longer present. He would need to shelve the books before Jason came back around and discover the mess. Jason...he wished he knew how to reconnect with the boy. The man. 

Thinking of Jason, he stopped outside his study and listened before attempting to look inside. He wondered if Cass or Jason had ever caught onto the fact that he’d been there the first day Jason had started reading to her. Bruce had intended to stop by his office and pick up some paperwork, when he heard Jason reading. Not wanting to chase away his son, he listened from the hallway and quickly skirted away before they left the study. There was something comforting about listening to Jason read. He wondered if he should tell Jason, or if that would have the opposite effect from the one he wanted. 

The room was silent, so he risked a peek inside. At last, he’d found Cass and she was alone. She sat with her back to the French windows her easel set up. But, she wasn’t painting. 

She was staring into the middle distance lost in thought. Absently, she rubbed her fingers over the Batgirl symbol Steph had drawn on the cast. It was faded and worn from all the times Cass had touched it, reminding herself that she was Batgirl and Batgirls don’t give up. 

Bruce touched her shoulder drawing her attention back to the here and now. He signed, ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ she responded with a touch of sadness to her expression. 

‘Really?’

She shrugged. ‘Everyone will leave now. Sad.’ 

‘I’m here,’ he signed, knowing that wasn’t the answer she wanted. Uncertain how to make things better, he handed her a pair of ballet tickets. The reason he’d been searching for her all this time. ‘These are for tonight. I thought you might appreciate the distraction. Who do you want to take?’

Cass pointed at Bruce. ‘You.’

‘Are you certain?’ As his children grew older, it sometimes felt like they didn’t want to spend time with him outside of patrol.

She nodded and pointed at him again. ‘Dad.’

He couldn’t help but smile. Besides Damian, it wasn’t often that they called him _dad_. ‘Dinner first?’

Again, a nod. 

‘Good.’ Bruce crossed over to his desk. _Pride and Prejudice_ laid on top of a stack of papers. After they had finished the ballet series, Jason had recommended they try Jane Austen. That was just like his boy. 

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Cass was watching him with those eyes that saw through every mask. He changed the subject. ‘Your cast comes off tomorrow. What’s the first thing you want to do?’

‘Patrol.’ Her eyes were wide with anticipation and hope.

‘No. Sorry. Your leg will be weak. You need to make it strong again before you go on patrol.’ Bruce’s heart broke as her face fell.

‘I know,’ she signed. 

‘What else would you like to do?’

She hesitated. Her eyes darted over to the stack of art books Damian had selected for her. 

‘What?’

‘It’s silly.’ She shook her head like even daring to think about the idea was too crazy of a notion. 

Considering that they all spent their evenings as costumed vigilantes, whatever her idea was, it couldn’t be crazier than that. ‘Tell me.’

She pulled the book of Degas prints from the stack of art books and the book fell open to _L’Etoile_ when she set it on her lap. ‘I want to see this. For real. Not in a book.’

Bruce nodded. Of course, they could do that. It was by no means a crazy idea. He was already making plans. It couldn’t be that difficult to find where the painting was displayed. They could make a vacation out of it. Billionaire Bruce Wayne hadn’t been seen out of the city for a while, so...

Wait. 

‘Have you ever been on vacation?’ he signed. 

Cass tilted her head to the side as she considered his question. ‘Travel? Yes.’

‘No. Vacation. Not working. Not patrol. For fun. For rest.’ He already knew the answer. That settled it. They were going to find that picture and he was going to take his daughter on her first real vacation. There would be no work for either of them. ‘The moment the doctor releases you for travel, we will go.’

‘Can everyone come?’ She glanced around the room like she was seeing the entire Manor and the evidence of how much her family cared. 

Bruce didn’t hesitate. ‘If that is what you want, we can invite them.’ 

She nodded. Exchanging the art book for the scrapbook Babs had made, Cass turned to the last page. Above the snapshot of the whole family—from Alfred to Damian—she’d added a caption in her simple uneven block letter scrawl. He smiled as he read it. Of course, everyone would come—from Alfred to Damian. Even Babs and Steph, and especially Jason. 

They shared the same sentiments. She had written...

FAMILY.

 


End file.
